Nicknames
by Seraphina Smiles
Summary: She blamed the entire "Callison" thing on Brandon, but if she was being honest, she didn't really mind.


_ She blamed the entire "Callison" thing on Brandon, but if she was being honest, she didn't really mind._

Hey guys! This is my first story for the "Fosters" fandom as well as my first official one-shot and I hope you enjoy it. I simply cannot believe they ended the season where they did! It was an awful cliff-hanger (which I mean in the best possible way and I'm hoping January rolls around soon so I can see it. Now, I have to admit I do ship Brallie but I wanted to do something with family and fluff before I dived into the "I love you"s.

By the way, I do not own the Fosters.

**Nicknames**

In all honesty, she's not sure how Brandon managed to get "Callison", or why it was _such _a better nickname for Callie than Cal, which was the very normal, very standard nickname for a girl with her name. There's also the fact that "Callison" was longer than Callie, and wouldn't it be better to save your breath and just say two syllables instead of three?

But when he first started, it had been late at night and she had decided the musician was simply sleep deprived.

It had been a fairly normal day following a simple pattern: wake up, school, home, homework, dinner, then bed, something the brunette was slowly getting used to.

However, it was one of those nights where she simply couldn't sleep despite all her tossing and turning. So slowly, as to not wake up her Hispanic roommate, she stepped outside of the room with the intent of just fetching herself some water. If she would be pulling an all nighter, at the very least she could get a drink.

Rather than finding the empty kitchen she had expected, she could see the light just as she turned the staircase. She probably would have turned, not really wanting to have any people contact at such a late hour (sleeping Marianna didn't count, the girl was practically dead to the world when she fell asleep), had she not been spotted by the eldest male resident of the house. Said male resident was nursing a mug in his hands, and looking directly at her.

Full lips, and white teeth opened and closed as they stated the syllables of the name, "Hey, Callison."

Callie blinked as she approached, the only sign that she acknowledged the odd choice of words, waving it off as a mistake of her ears.

"What are you doing up so late?", she questioned, her feet carrying herself closer to him, deciding on it being a force of habit. She still wasn't exactly sure what her relationship was with Brandon, but at the very least, she knew that they were friends and she _trusted _him to some degree.

"I could ask the same thing to you.", Brandon replied, "But the main one was that I couldn't sleep."

Callie nodded, easily accepting the answer, as it was her own.

Brandon looked down at himself, well more specifically his cup and then back at his foster sister, "Hey, do you want some?"

Callie looked at the mug, it was a dark blue and bore a solid red "S" enclosed in a pentagon. Superman, Six Flags. Yes, she had been to an amusement park, once with Liam when her and Jude had just arrived their, before the _incident. _

She bit her lip, her mind taking her even further in the past. Before that house where that man _dared_ to touch Jude, before Liam, before foster care. It drifted to her mother, who drank tea almost everyday right before bed. Callie had rarely ever indulged herself in that habit, the only time being in her first foster home where the owners had pretended to be kind, if only for their first night.

A mug was set before her, a simple and solid green, still steaming. She hadn't realized she'd nodded until it was in front of her, though her expression didn't look fazed, "Do you have any honey?"

Brandon nodded, passing her the bear-shaped plastic that contained the golden syrup and a metal spoon, which Callie used to stir her heated beverage.

The two sat silently, enjoying the silence and each other's company. Callie had forgotten how simply comforting the liquid felt against her throat, and if she closed her eyes she could feel her mom standing right next to her. The old brown sofa, right next to the corner of the living room that Callie had always ignored in favor of lifting herself onto the island table and sipping off her mom's tea.

"Night, Callison."

That wasn't her mom's voice, it was Brandon's. Brandon, with his white t-shirt and flannel pajama pants who was slowly making his way up the stairs.

"Callison?", she asked. Brandon was only on the second step.

"Yeah, I like it. What do you think?"

* * *

I did plan on writing more, but at the same time I felt like this was a good ending spot. I may write a sequel to it in the future, but for now I'll end it at that.


End file.
